


Yield

by Antosha



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angry Author, Dark, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:35:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23951668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antosha/pseuds/Antosha
Summary: "The portion of her clothing that is still intact is cold and sticky, and she isn't very comfortable sitting on the corridor floor. He's lying there, and she wishes he'd go away, but she can't seem to move and he doesn't seem willing to." (Written pre-HBP. Please pay attention to the warnings.)
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	Yield

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in response to a sexual assault on a friend of mine. Not a very useful response to her, I suppose, but the best I could do at the time for myself.
> 
> Warnings : Implied and non-romanticized/eroticized non-con. Darkest thing I've written or am likely to write.

The portion of her clothing that is still intact is cold and sticky, and she isn't very comfortable sitting on the corridor floor. He's lying there, and she wishes he'd go away, but she can't seem to move and he doesn't seem willing to.  
  
It wasn't sexual of course, a cold little corner of her brain is telling her. She knows enough to know that. That what he did to her wasn't about sex or desire, it was about dominance, about the power struggle that they have been locked since second year when he began to single her out, to separate her from Harry and from Ron. No different from making fun of Harry's fainting when the Dementors swarmed around him like black holes come to life, or when he and his cronies did their best to humiliate Ron.  
  
"Weasley Is Our King" was now the Gryffindor fight song. Take that and shove it, Draco. This was no different.  
  
Only it was different.  
  
She knew she must hurt, that she would hurt horribly. That she would feel humiliated. Horribly. But at the moment, Hermione doesn't feel a thing. And she can't seem to move.  
  
Something is dripping down the far wall.  
  
She hears a muffled sound, and three sets of disembodied ankles appear around the corner.  
  
She can't seem to move.  
  
"Bloody hell," says Ron's voice, and suddenly three of them are there, like magic-- _magic_ giggles Hermione's mind hysterically, no longer so cold--as a shimmering bit of cloth slides off in Harry's hand.  
  
Ginny, Harry and Ron, eyes huge like those silly prints of little children that her gran loved so. "Bloody hell," Ron repeats and the three of them ran forward.  
  
"Areyouokayareyouokayareyouokay," all three seem to ask at once, and she wants to hide, to curl up into herself and hide and curl up and die and curl up but she can't seem to move.  
  
Ginny throws a cloak over Hermione, and Ron strokes her hair and there is something in it, something in it sticky and cold.  
  
"She's in shock," Harry says, and she sees in his eyes, in Ginny's eyes that they know how she feels, but Ron doesn't know, and she never wants him to see....  
  
"Hermione," Ron says and she wants to hide from his voice, to curl up and die, but she can't seem to move. He isn't looking her in the I, and she wants to curl up and die, and he throws his robes over her too, and she realizes that he could see her breasts, that her skirt was up over her hips, and he isn't going to want to see her again, and that hurts.  
  
She wants to die. She wants Draco to go away, but he's lying there, his little purple stiletto of a prick still pointed at her and she wants to throw up.  
  
Ron holds his hand out to Ginny, and there's something on it, pink and shiny, and she shakes her head. "No," Ginny says, "it's not her."  
  
Ron gulps and nods.  
  
"Hermione," Harry says, and Hermione finds that that little clear part of her brain is giggling again, giggling at the sound of her own name, "Hemione, we're going to get you up to the hospital wing. But we need to know what happened." His eyes look so sad, and she knows that he knows and Ginny knows. But Ron is afraid. Ron doesn't know.  
  
"Well," Hermione says, and the little clear corner of her brain is cold and arclit again, Muggle-lit, not wizarding flame or glamours, "Head Boy and Girl, we had a meeting with the Heads of Houses, we had a meeting and he followed me back, you, see, he, followed me back and he started in on me about you and he called me mudblood and I slapped him and he..." She holds her hand up to her left eye and realizes that it is swollen shut. She doesn't feel anything and she wants to die but the words tumble out. "And then he said he owed me still for hitting him third year and he pushed me up against the wall and started to rip at my robes and I scratched at him and I screamed and I wanted him to die and I wanted to curl up and die and I screamed at him and scratched at him and pushed at him and he kept trying to push his... And he bit me, and I screamed, and I pushed his face and I screamed. And suddenly I... There was a bright light, pink and white, and I must have... passed out, or something. And..." She is aware that she is screaming again, and Ron looks terrified and that makes her feel worse and she looks at the paling, softening prick and screams at him, "Fuck off, you fucking berk! Fuck off and go _die!_ What are you doing here? Go back to your hole in the ground, you fucking _bastard_!"  
  
And Ron leans forward and holds her and says, "He's not going to hurt you again, love."  
  
And she can't see, not even out of the one eye that is still open, she is weeping, and she strikes out with her still-balled fists at Ron, not knowing why. " _Don't touch me_!" she screams. " _Tell that fucker to GO AWAY."  
  
_A lance of cold chills Hermione's left cheek--a spell? "He's not going anywhere," Ginny murmurs, and Hermione squints at her over Ron's massive shoulder, yes, she's using a Cooling Charm on Hermione's eye.  
  
"What?"  
  
"He's not going anywhere," the redhead repeats, and pulls away her wand. Hermione peers past her. Draco is there, pants down, shirt up... No face. Nothing at all above the shoulders.  
  
Reflexively, Hermione's hands unclench, and something pink, pink oatmeal shot with slivers of white, dribbles down onto Ron's chest. "Oh."  
  
There is more noise. The four house heads run up, all gabbling, all those same awful-painting-children eyes, Professors McGonagall and Sprout and Flitwick and Snape, and Snape looks almost human for the first time ever.  
  
"What's happened here?" says McGonagall, her voice quavering.  
  
And Harry and Ginny and Ron start using words like _rape_ and _attack_ and _defending_...  
  
And then it is silent. And Snape looks down at the body and sniffs. "Well, well. Mr. Malfoy does rather seem to have lost his head, doesn't he?"

**Author's Note:**

> Original author notes: This fic was written in response to something that happened to a friend of mine. I decided writing about a rapist's head exploding was better than using a baseball bat to make the gentleman in question's turn to pink oatmeal in this thing we jokingly call real life.
> 
> Nonconsensual sex isn't erotic. It isn't titillating. As Hermione points out, it isn't even about sex. It's violence. Period.
> 
> Yes, I intended multiple meanings in the title. And yes, I am aware that Hermione's syntax and spelling wander. Can you blame her?
> 
> Added: Since I wrote this, I've been asked a lot of questions about why Ginny and Harry understood what Hermione was going through but not Ron. I actually didn't understand that when I first wrote it, but it occured to me that Possession is the psychic equivalent of rape.
> 
> Yield means both "to give in" and a measure of a bomb's explosive power.


End file.
